


42 (There must be something more)

by chaoticdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (they do switch but not in this ficlet), Birthday Party, Birthday Sex, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Loved, Dean Winchester's Birthday, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Everyone lives because we're final denialists deal with it, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticdean/pseuds/chaoticdean
Summary: Dean had spent a lifetime celebrating birthdays in motel rooms and gas stations, beheading vampires or getting thrown through a room by some sort of monsters, when he wasn’t simply forgetting that he even had a birthday in the first place — bigger fish to fry, apocalypse to stop, God to kill… You pick your flavor.But things were different now.Dean was turning 42, there were no monsters in sight, no shitty motel rooms or Gas’n’Sip’s disgusting coffee in the middle of Ohio, and they were throwing a party.———Happy 42th birthday, Dean-o 💙[Shamelessly titled after Coldplay's "42"]
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 60
Kudos: 356





	42 (There must be something more)

**Author's Note:**

> This is your friendly reminder that this ficlet is unbeta'd and that I'm not a native English speaker, so there are likely some grammatical and orthographic mistakes!

Dean had spent a lifetime celebrating birthdays in motel rooms and gas stations, beheading vampires or getting thrown through a room by some sort of monsters, when he wasn’t simply forgetting that he even had a birthday in the first place — bigger fish to fry, apocalypse to stop, God to kill… You pick your flavor. 

But things were different now.

Dean was turning 42, there were no monsters in sight, no shitty motel rooms or Gas’n’Sip’s disgusting coffee in the middle of Ohio, and they were throwing a party.

Dean had objected, more rhetorically than actually meaningly, but as he’s watching around the war room he feels some sort of warmth settling into his stomach. 

Charlie and Stevie are seemingly deep in conversation with Jody and Eileen, the latter sitting on the metal steps of the staircase. Claire and Kaia, sitting on the map table as they earnestly listen to Jack explaining how he and Amara managed to rebuild Heaven. Sam is talking animatedly with Jody and Garth, beers in hand and smiles on their faces.

Dean’s shoulder is leaning against the library’s door frame as he gazes at his family, all reunited for him, in his own home. There are remnants of wrapping papers scattered over the table, a box of pizza with some slices left that Dean is sure will be of use when he inevitably stumbles upon the kitchen for one of his night snacks, a couple of empty beer bottles sitting on the stairs… 

He’s about to get down the three steps it takes to go from the library to the war room when a hand sneaks around his hip and wrap around his middle, another slowly going up against his spine until it settles against the nape of his neck, and he can’t help but smile as Castiel plasters himself against his back and gently kisses that special spot behind his ear. 

“What are you thinking of?” the angel asks against the shell of his ear, and it takes everything in him not to turn around into his embrace and kiss the living shit out of him.

But if Dean is many things, he’s not really into effusive PDA just yet. Although one (Sam) might argue that their staring contests over the years were enough of PDA anyway, but Dean’s just not there, not yet. 

_ I’m thinking I fucking love you, and if it was only you and I today I’d still be happy. But there seems to be a divine law preventing me from being happy with myself so I won’t say it, in fear it breaks the charm. _

“I’m wondering if I could go for more pizza or if that wouldn’t be reasonable,” he says with a grin instead.

“There’s still pie to come, you might want to keep some space for that,” Cas answers thoughtfully, a hint of fondness into his voice.

Dean hums as he lets one of his hands find Castiel’s and laces their fingers tightly together.

“Are you okay?” Cas asks after a little while, his voice low but a tone of concern woven into the edges of his words.

Is he okay? Hell. He’s probably the most “okay” he’s ever been in 42 long years.

He’s learning to let Cas in, slowly. He’s learning not to flinch at the touches, not to go for his gun when he wakes up to Cas sneaking in bed after going outside in the middle of the night, not to immediately think that there must be something wrong when everything feels amazing because “good things do happen, Dean” indeed.

It’s a work in progress, and Dean is willing to try. Because he’s got Cas, and he’s got a family who’s willing to cross the country just to be there for his 42th birthday.

“I’m great,” he answers, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards. “Where have  _ you _ been?”

Dean can feel Cas’ chuckle as he presses his face against his shoulder blade, his breath ghosting over the skin of his neck. For so long he had wondered how it would feel, being able to touch Cas, to feel, to hold.

Turns out it feels like home. 

“It’s a surprise,” Cas says lowly before biting a kiss in the V shape of Dean’s neck, effectively turning the birthday boy into an error 404 mode. “You’ll see later.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” Dean asks, relishing the light burn of Cas’ stubble against the skin of his shoulder.

Cas finally let go and Dean instantly misses his warmth. Not for long, though. The angel kisses his cheek softly and extends a hand as he starts going down the stairs to join the others. Dean makes eye contact with Sam across the room and they share a knowing smile as Dean wraps his fingers around Cas’ and follows willingly. 

An angel of the Lord, his entire family, pizza, beer, and pies to come… 42 never looked so good.

*******

They stumble into Dean’s bedroom around 2 am. After everyone left they started cleaning up the mess in the war room until Sam and Eileen shooed them away with shit-eating grins.

Dean’s back is stuck to the closed door of his bedroom and he’s clinging to Cas’ hips, lost into a sloppy kiss that sets his nerves into bursts of fire, when he registers a dozen lit candles scattered around the room, painting the whole place into a fort of warmth. 

Cas kisses his way across his jawline, biting kisses underneath the bolt of his jaw. Dean can almost feel the smile on his lips as he clutches him closer, a desperate feeling of need coursing through his veins. 

“So this is where you were earlier? Turning this room into a fire hazard?” he asks with a smile, catching Cas’ eyes as he finally lean back to look at him.

“It’s supposed to be  _ romantic _ ,” Cas argues, a twinkle in his eyes. “You don’t like it?”

Dean smiles, something distinct ticking inside his heart. “I love it, sweetheart. Thank you.”

“So,” Cas starts, one of his fingers traveling across Dean’s cheekbone, tenderness overflowing his senses. “Was your birthday party acceptable?”

Dean chuckles, brings Cas closer and tighter against his chest. “I have a few ideas to make it even more acceptable.”

“You’re insufferable,” Cas sighs but there’s a smile on his face as Dean motions both of them to the bed they’ve been sharing for months.

Clothes get shed, words get kissed into soft skin as they slowly find each other again. Cas is soft and eager beneath him, his fingers tugging firmly at his hair as Dean slowly sinks into him, a choked off whine escaping his lips. 

Sex had been easy, to Dean’s greatest surprise. He expected it to be a challenge, but where Cas lacked experience he made up for it with enthusiasm and so much love that sometimes Dean couldn’t take it anymore. 

His eyes catch Cas’ electric blues and he has to hide his face in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily as he moves into him, finding his pace.

“You’re okay, Dean, I’ve got you,” Cas murmurs against the shell of his ear, sealing his words with a kiss right above his ear before he cries out deeply, Dean hitting  _ that  _ spot just right. “Fuck,  _ Dean _ .”

He can’t help but grin then, rising up again just to catch Cas’ expression when he does it again. 

“Yeah? Like that?” he asks, grinning at his lover, relishing the choked off moans that gradually comes out of Cas’ mouth as he quickens his pace, holding him impossibly closer. “‘that what you want, babe? Harder?”

Cas nods, unable to speak as Dean brings them closer to the edge with each thrust of his hips. He finds one of his hands and laces their fingers together, desperate for more, always more, needing to feel him closer.

It’s easy, losing themselves in each other. A sweep of hands, fingers tangled up in hair, kisses bitten against sharp edges — words left unsaid but still there in every single touch. Dean makes love just like he’s lived his entire life; with urgency, loaded with a need to touch, to grab, to feel. 

He’s even allowed Cas to take the reigns a handful of times, to take control like he’s never allowed anyone before. He’s slowly learning to let someone fully in for the first time. After all, they do say “better late than never”. 

42 seems like a good age to start.

When they finally come it’s barely a few seconds apart, the sounds of Cas breaking down and clenching around him setting something on fire inside of him, leaving him a babbling mess and both of them wonderfully fucked out. 

“God, babe,” Dean murmurs, pulling Cas closer to him. “So good for me,” he sighs happily as he nuzzles into the crook of Castiel’s neck, content to stay right where he is, not caring a single second about the mess between them.

“Happy birthday,” Cas says, his voice already slurred, and Dean knows they’re both about to sink into sleep so instead of responding he just drops a soft kiss against the hollow of Cas’ throat and falls into slumber, content in the basks of their very own afterglow. 

* * *

It’s only a few hours later that Dean wakes up, limbs entirely entangled with Cas, the angel’s head tucked under his chin and an arm thrown around his middle. He vaguely remembers falling asleep the other way around, tucked into Cas’ arms instead, feeling safe, cared for. 

Home. 

Dean lets a hand wander on the skin of Castiel’s back, ghosting over the ridge of his spin, the plane of his shoulder until it reaches his head and he carefully threads his finger into the thick lock of dark hair. Cas wears them a bit longer lately, and Dean idly wonders if that might have something to do with how he likes it tugged when they have sex. 

Cas sighs with contentment as Dean carefully cards his hand through his hair, his other hand automatically running against his flank. 

“What are you doing?” Cas grumbles.

“Enjoying the moment,” Dean answers truthfully, ghosting his lips against Cas’ hairline.

“You could’ve waited until morning,” he whines in response, pushing his face deeper into the crook of Dean’s neck, mildly annoyed.

Dean just tugs on his hair in response, delighting in the sharp little moan that escapes from the angel’s throat. “I could, but where’s the fun in that?”

“You’re an asshole.”

Dean chuckles, drops a kiss against Cas’ cheek. “I know, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.”

“Dean?” Cas asks, voice muffled and so heavy with sleep that Dean just  _ knows  _ he’s seconds away from drifting back to sleep.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” Cas breathes and Dean feels like his heart might explode under the weight of these three little words and the reverence of Castiel’s tone.

He breathes deeply, taking in the love and devotion, clutches his boyfriend impossibly closer. And Castiel has the audacity to  _ whine  _ because how dare he, Dean Winchester, still decides to bother him instead of letting him sleep.

“I love you too,” he murmurs into his hair, and it feels great finally letting it out. 

It feels like flying while simultaneously exploding, but Dean knows it’s fine. It’s okay. Cas is here, Cas is real, Cas is solid against him and he’s not going away. They’re building something here, finally, together.

And maybe it took 42 years to get there, maybe it took more than a decade and a shitload of messed up things, but if that’s all it took to get them where they are right now, all tangled up into the same bed and into a home they share… Dean would gladly do it all over again.

42 feels like a good time to finally find something more out of life.

**Author's Note:**

> _**rebloggable on[Tumblr](https://chaoticdean.tumblr.com/post/641148618718543872/42-there-must-be-something-more)** _


End file.
